Miscommunication
by Thingy Person
Summary: FE9, Ike and Soren. Somehow, Ike says the worst things at the most perfectly wrong time. Disregard the summary plzkthnx.


_This is situated somewhere in FE9, between the B support and Soren's unfortunate discovery in the Mainal cathedral, being Soren's most insecure period (so expect lots and lots of angst). As I've never played the game, some inconsistencies might occur._

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, any of its characters, or Rhys' paling face.

_Rated T for lolviolence.

* * *

_Ike searched amongst the shattered weapons and blood-stained armor in despair. It was near nightfall. The more corpses he examined, the harder it would be to discern the fallen soldiers from his best friend. And even if they did find him, the sickening aura of death did not bode for survivors. Shinon reluctantly overturned a fallen Daein with his foot. Though Rhys was present, he, too, did not think he would be of service.

And then, as the sun began to settle behind the trees, Ike saw a puddle of black on the ground, like a stain among the remains of Crimean white. If it had been any less dark, the stickiness that touched Ike's hand would have made all hope dissipate from afar. The tiny mage, whose home was either behind a desk or at Ike's side, was bathing in his own blood.

It's as Oscar had said. Mercenaries such as themselves do not mesh well in the army, where strength is measured through numbers and not from individual consideration. Despite Soren's tactical genius, his thoroughness had limits, and he had failed to spot an Armorslayer hidden within the equipment of an enemy trooper. While Ike was commanding the main portion of the army elsewhere, Soren was forced to watch as the general in front of him, his last protection, collapsed. With nothing but a tome left to defend himself, the mage suffered a direct hit from an axe, a cleavage by the sword of a paladin passing through and was trampled by the remainder of the advancing troops.

And yet, as Ike rolled the blood drenched body onto its back, and saw his friend more beat up than he ever had before, he realised that not only was Soren alive, he was also conscious. The mage opened his wary eyes briefly, glanced at Ike as if to seek confirmation, and closed them again, a faint, exhausted smile on his lips. Ike screamed Rhys' name and heaved Soren's upper body off the cold floor.

"Oh godess, I'm sorry", Ike said, as he observed Soren's injuries. He'd never forgive himself if this one slip-up were to be fatal. "So sorry..."

The mage tried to speak, but coughed up a bit of blood instead.  
"h...heh...you came...just like...before..."

Rhys paled upon seeing Soren in his delirium, and he wasted no time. After the bleeding had stopped, Ike heaved Soren onto his back to get him a proper treatment in the camp. "It's a miracle. With wounds like those, he shouldn't have survived", said the bewildered priest.

--

While Soren was under intensive care in the camp's medical wing, Ike was left to ponder that night. _I came? Just like before? _In truth, Soren's first encounter with the Greil Mercenaries was still a bit of a mystery.

Even so, Ike hardly came to Soren. It was more like an inexplicable clingyness that made Ike take Soren home. They were around twelve back then; Ike had dismissed the strangeness of the situation as being a naïve child. But now, he wanted to know why the raven-haired boy had tugged his sleeve and wouldn't let go, why he had been so sorely disappointed when Ike returned him a blank stare.

It was vexing. Soren's undying loyalty thereafter was easily explained by Ike giving him a home, but it doesn't explain why Soren ran up to _him_, an ordinary-looking child. His surprising mastery of magic and writing make this even more odd; why would Soren go with a random stranger if he could handle the world just fine by himself?

Then an intriguing, albeit slightly unsettling thought came over Ike. _At the age of twelve? Seriously?_ Although, Soren had been quite mature for his age. In a way, he felt flattered, but felt increasingly uncomfortable as he dwelled on this. Soren _had_ been quiet and distant recently. Maybe it had something to do with Ike's promotion to commander of the army or, by a stretch, leader of the company, as if having reached adulthood. Maybe Soren was afraid he'd make a slip-up and Ike would no longer be oblivious to it?

That's not even considering Ike's feelings. He had never considered Soren anything more than a friend. A very, very dear friend he would talk to about anything and spend his life with, regardless of the circumstances, but only that much. Actually, he wouldn't mind going in that direction, if only to make Soren happy. He'd stand by him unconditionally, so why not give it a try? Ike didn't know wether he swung that way, but he wasn't really sure wether he swung any way _at all_.

In any case, it had to be dealt with. Ike had to make sure first. Then he'd contemplate what to do afterwards.

--

When Ike woke up the next day, Soren was already up and working, despite his previous ordeals. Ike skipped breakfast for the time being to tend to Soren.

The mage was sitting at his desk doing paperwork, as if nothing had happened, except he wore a different set of robes. As Ike lifted the flap of the tent, Soren met him with a smile, although with a hint of appearant guilt, as it had been lately.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Yes. I can keep fulfilling my duties." He noticed that wasn't the answer Ike wanted. "...sorry to have worried you."

Worry was a blatant understatement, but there was a subtle tone to that apology that made it sound like an unforgivable sin.

"I think I know your secret", said Ike, unable to think of a better way to tackle this nagging issue.

Soren's head snapped up from the papers. If he had been any less paranoid and repressed, he'd have recognized Ike's look as being one of minor discomfort, instead of the disgust he made it out to be.

"What...secret?" He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, despite the panic welling up in him.

Even Ike could notice his friend's growing fear. He had expected something like a blush, but Soren was paling in front of him. "It's alright. You couldn't hide it forever." He tried to smile for comfort, but with Soren's unsettling reaction, it came out rather convulsive.

The mage's eyes widened with fright. Ike's words echoed through his mind. _You couldn't hide it forever. _Ike's smile was unmistakable. He recognized the cold statisfaction of an examplary villager who had just exacted the Godess' revenge. Every smile he had received from Ike up to that point held warmth, something no one else had shown before. And now, that warmth was gone. _He knows. And now, it's payback time._

"Soren, are you okay?"

The mage was shuddering heavily, his eyes fixed on Ike, not that he could sense anything through the mess of his mind. _Branded...branded...branded..._Ike rushed over to him, only to have Soren go limp in his arms. Whatever secret Soren had, Ike concluded it was darker than anything he could imagine. He had said the wrong things entirely.

--

Soren woke up with a maddening headache. He felt tense all over his body, and it exhausted him. He had no idea how long he'd been out. As he came back to his senses, he realised he was lying on a cot, face-up. His head rested on its side, and Soren recognized Ike's tent. He lacked the strength and the motivation to lift his head and take a look around. In his current misery, he barely had the motivation to breathe.

Against his common sense, Soren made one last shot at denial. He mustered his strength and made a pitiful little noise, akin to a cough, still loud enough to announce his awakening to whoever was in the tent. No response. Immediately, he felt ashamed for even thinking there would be anyone to care for him at this point. With his last hope gone, he felt even more miserable. As he deemed fitting.

If one could actually reach the godess through prayer, it would be worthwhile to struggle on just a bit longer. When Soren discovered his heritage, and the reason for everything that had happened up to his reunion with Ike, he still held on to hope. His cursed blood was something even he found repugnant, something worthy of being shunned as he had been during his life. Still, the kindness Ike had shown him was addicting. Like a sinner, he had denied the Godess' absolute authority, in favor of a hope that Ike might accept him altogether. Now that he had been rejected by the most kind and guillable soul on the world, there was no getting around the truth. Soren closed his eyes and prayed, as a mourning person would do to try and reach a departed friend.

He wanted to both thank and scold Ike for giving him a taste of happiness. Though his birth was a thing that should never ever have happened, Ike had taught him what it meant to have a purpose, what it meant to be loved. In the one hand, he had made his life somewhat complete, but he should never have lived in the first place. Now that he had been rejected, he had been taught true misery, the likes of which he had never known before, and he was grateful for that. He wanted to say Ike goodbye, despite having cheated his way into happiness and disgusting him for having consorted with a Branded. Soren curled up away from the entrance to the tent and, as a meaningless attempt at retribution, began doing the world a favor. _Ike, I'm sorry...and thank you..._

--

Ike cursed under his breath. He vowed that the next time someone would screw with him this way, he would apply force. He had gone out to fetch a new pillow for Soren, but the department taking care of that just so happened to be lead by Aimee. With his best friend in an unknown condition, he couldn't afford wasting twenty minutes trying to make a crazy shopkeeper let go of his hand. What if Soren woke up in the time he was gone?

He lifted the flap of the tent and found that Soren had shifted on the bed. He felt relieved that he had awoken, but damned Aimee to hell in the back of his head.

"Soren?", he called out. No response. _Who knows what's going on in his head right now..._

Rather than gripping the mage's shoulder and pulling him around, Ike walked around the bed to face Soren. His face had an unhealthy shade of purple.

Ike began panicking. He shoved the mage on his back and brought an ear to his nose. He wasn't breathing. He brought his index finger to the mage's neck to guage his pulse. He was cold as death.

_If I told you, and...and you turn on me...I don't think I could survive it...

* * *

Angst. Anxiety attacks. Suicide by not breathing. Who else but Soren?_

_Note that this isn't supposed to be a pisstake on IkexSoren, nor an attempt at doing something original with it. In fact, I had the basic outlines of the fic in my head before I even thought of including the pairing. It ended up as a character study on Ike's part, which I kind of like. Unoblivious Ike is fun to write. I still don't stand by the pairing (if there was any in this fic to begin with), like I don't stand by SorenxIlyana, but some parts of it make for lovely interaction._

_The 'pairing' is probably also why I made it FE9, since I can't stand beefy emotionless FE10 Ike. Not to mention he'd tear Soren in half, regardless of lubricant._

_Also, yeah, Soren died. I like Soren deathfics. Actually, I have a tendency to like seeing characters I like suffer/die. Same goes for Ranulf, or Roxas from Kingdom Hearts. I'm a bastard. This only includes male characters, as female torment just rubs me the wrong way. That makes me a gentlebastard._


End file.
